


What We Are

by TwilekTimeLord



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Wars, Gen, Slow To Update, Using the universe for an original story, first story on this site, i dont even know if this belongs here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilekTimeLord/pseuds/TwilekTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a galaxy of heroes and villains, a war rages. They may not have headlined the battles, or led the Republic to victory, but this group of clone commandos and Jedi conspirators must fight for survival, and for each other. Guided by the leadership of a burned-out mercenary and an untested Knight, it could be the experience balance that gets them all killed, or the chaos that somehow makes it work. </p>
<p>There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.<br/>There is no fear, there is power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haryc B’aalyc

She slid the glass across the counter, watching the drops in the bottom refract the green light. The Rodian barkeep set another one down without her needing to say a word and she moved her hand from the empty glass to the full one. He knew what she wanted and that she could pay—all that mattered to the proprietor.  


Rair Shouna had been to this bar every night for the last four Coruscanti months, and she was thinking it was time to switch again. People were starting to get friendly. A Weequay who showed up a few times a week had greeted her when she entered, and a Human kid—couldn’t have been more than sixteen, had asked her if she was selling anything he could use to embarrass his family, “figured you’re here all the time, you must have some kind of business.” She hadn’t even looked at him, just shot his hand as it drifted closer to her jacket. People were less friendly after that.  


But it was time to move on. This had been the longest stay, the best alcohol, and the least sleazy of her bars since she settled on the capitol world, but she just couldn’t let people think she was actually approachable.  


She tapped on the glass with her gloved fingers. She wanted this to be the one, the drink that finally let her get black-out-and-do-something-stupid-enough-to-be-killed drunk. _Just one more_ di’kut, _you can do it this time._ In one movement, too smooth to betray how much she’d had that night, she grabbed the drink and swallowed it, relishing the burn it left in her mouth and throat. But she stayed aware. She groaned and put her head on the counter, wishing she had the courage to pound her head against it to black out. It would be just as effective as the alcohol and with the same pain in the morning.  


But she couldn’t even bring herself to do that. So she flicked her wrist at the Rodian to indicate a refill of the _tihaar_. One more try couldn’t make things any worse.  


“That won’t make it feel better.”  
She was on her feet, two blasters drawn and focused on the speaker before he could finish the first few words. She was slower than normal, dulled by the drink.  


“No need for violence—“  


“ _Mar’e_ , I was worried someone would pull a gun. Oh, wait.” She poked his chest with her left blaster, partially to threaten, but mostly to try to make her eyes focus. She may not have blacked out, but she was plenty inebriated.  


The dark-skinned Human raised his arms, long sleeves pooling around his elbows. “I’m not looking for a fight, I’m looking for a Mandolorian Twi’lek who trained commandos on Kamino. Have you seen anyone like that around?” He smiled, likely to try to put her at ease, but it only made her more suspicious. She didn’t like people making jokes when she was drunk.  


“Nope. So I suggest you leave here while I’m still deciding if a hole would look better through your face or your stomach.” Oh, shouldn’t have said stomach. Her own turned over on her, reminding her that she stood up very, very quickly after that last round. “Meerit?”  


The Rodian turned from his conspicuous ignoring of the situation. “Yes, ma’am?”  


“How many of those have I had tonight?” She poked the Human again to assure him that she hadn’t forgotten about him.  


Meerit hummed, indicating he didn’t really want to answer. “Well, it’s a new record! I think with that last one you’ve had about,” he paused, checking his math, “twenty-four tonight.”  


“ _Fierfek._ ” She muttered, no wonder everything was a little fuzzy. “Thanks Meerit, mind getting another one ready for me?” He nodded and resumed ignoring the potential for violence hovering over his nice, shiny counters. Well, they were nice once at least.  


“Maybe that’s not such a good idea?” The Human looked at her with something she couldn’t quite figure out. Perhaps it was disappointment? More likely it was worry. He had some very fancy robes on and Rair doubted he would take kindly to them being covered in vomit.  


“I can hold my liquor. I’ve held it 425 days so far and I’ll make it another.” She squinted at his hip, noticing the lightsaber, “And as long as I have to until this _di’kutla_ war is over, _Jetii_.” She took care to actually spit on him on the last word. She didn’t know how much she was slurring her speech and she had to be sure he knew it was an insult.  


“I’m gathering you must be the one I’m looking for. I was warned about a certain disdain for Jedi.” He lowered a hand to offer it to her. “I’m Grone Tippet.”  


“I’m sorry.” She wrinkled her nose at the name. “No one deserves to be called that through childhood.” But she didn’t take his hand. Even if she tried she’s probably miss, or reach for the wrong one of the three that were spinning through her periphery. So she made a tactical decision and chose to look aloof and important rather than a fool. He lowered both his hands before long.  


“Miss Shouna, the Republic is requesting your services.”  


“And what makes you think I give a pile of _osik_ about what the Republic wants?”  


“Well, you did help train our army and—“  


She shoved one blaster into his chest and slammed the other into his stomach. “Listen here, _Jetii_ , I trained 208 commandos for your army. I raised 208 _ade_ to fight your war, and now you want me to go back?” She slammed a blaster into his chin, knocking the bigger man off his feet. She was in a rage now, drunk and upset. But the Jedi stayed down, letting her aim a weapon at his head while he lay on his back, jaw already swelling. “Did you know that those commandos you send out to die are cared for? That someone had to walk into a room full of children, and spend the next nine years teaching them how to be the perfect soldiers, the perfect weapons? 208 sons they gave me, and now a year and a half after they left me in the middle of the night to die on Geonosis, only 137 are still out there, fighting your _di’kutla_ war.”  


Bar patrons weren’t exactly ignoring the situation, but no one stopped conversation to stare or tried to intervene. Anyone who did would have gotten the gift of seeing their intestines on the floor before they died.  


“Now, General Tippet, you have the audacity to drag your _shebs_ in here and tell me the Republic wants me to help out again? In case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t been a mercenary since I got to say goodbye to my boys in the days after they had begun dying. Just a few days after the Geonosis disaster, then nothing.” She clicked off the safety of the blaster, slightly embarrassed she hadn’t done so already. “I’m not afraid to slot a Jedi, so give me a good reason not to.”  


He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m sorry for your pain. But I think if you take this opportunity, you may be able to keep your boys—along with many other troopers and commandos, alive.” He moved his hands slowly, watching how her eyes followed them and how her hand tightened around the blaster’s grip. He pulled a sheet of flimsi from a deep pocket and offered it to her between two fingers. “Here are all the details I have of what we need from you.”  


She stared at it for a full minute, brow creased, deciding whether to take the bait or not. “ _Haar’chak_ , I’m drunk, so you caught me in a good mood.” She holstered the blaster not pointed at Tippet’s head and took the flimsi, unfolding it without taking her eyes off the Jedi. “Do you need me to rescue a terrified Senator from a tree?”  


Tippet sighed but said nothing. Rair looked to the flimsi and tried to make the words stop swimming around the sheet. Minutes passed without her moving anything but her eyes. When Tippet shifted so that he was leaning on his elbows, her attention immediately returned to him. “Is this a joke?”  


The Jedi’s brow furrowed, he had no idea what was on the sheet, he couldn’t know. Rair shook her head and searched his eyes, there was no way he could be serious about this assignment if he knew what it was. “ _Nuh’la, shabuir_. Very funny. You expect me to believe that your precious Republic is willing to hand over a base to me? A drunk ex-mercenary who with no love for your government?” She crumpled the flimsi into a ball and dropped it on the floor.  


Tippet looked nearly apologetic as he explained, “well, that’s the problem. Currently, though we built it, the base belongs to the wild. We don’t know if locals or Separatists have moved in, all we know is that it was abandoned two standard months ago and all of a sudden it started transmitting again. Someone quickly figured out how to change the codes, so we didn’t hear anything in particular, but we know someone is there and it looks like the war is headed back out to that sector. If we can reclaim that base we might be able to establish supremacy in the system before the Separatists.”  


She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how is this supposed to help save my boys?”  


“If we don’t take the base soon, we’ll have to wait until a greater portion of the army is ready to mobilize so that we can storm the planet. If there’s someone waiting for us, intelligence won’t be able to give us any data on them without a base.” He shrugged, “So either we send a team in now to take it, or we risk sending hundreds into an ambush in a few months.” It looked like it hurt him to talk, but he didn’t complain. The swelling was beginning to color a nice, dark black that stood out even against his skin.  


“That’s quite the ultimatum.” She clenched her teeth, not knowing if she was about to make a decision based on actual logic or the kind that manifests when you’ve had two dozen drinks and an adrenaline spike. _It’s not as if I have anything left to lose._  


“Alright, _shabuir_ , I’ll play your game, but you have to go by my rules.”  


Tippet may have been a Jedi knight, but Rair guessed he wasn’t their best, because she could see the relief in his face. “I’m sure I can negotiate a price for you with intel—“  


“I don’t give a nerf’s shebs about pay, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with and more than I need to support my drinking habit. What I’m talking about is a little more personal.” She knelt next to Tippet, one knee on his chest. “I want my boys.”  


Color drained from his face. “I-I’m not sure that—“  


“Oh shut up, idiot. I know there’s no way you can get them all to me, but for this job I’m going to need a team. Now, you’re going to pay close attention to a file I’ll send you with the names and designations of every one of my surviving sons and the last place I know of them being deployed and you’re going to gather every one that you can pull. If they’re on a mission you do not have to compromise it, but if they have just completed one or are awaiting assignment, you send them to me.” She grabbed a massive handful of his robes and pulled him close to her face. “Do not tell them what the new assignment is, do not tell them about me. If they have been assigned to new squads or reorganized because of deaths, you send the entire new squad to me. If one of my boys is on the squad, they’re all mine.” She dropped the robes and he fell backwards again. “Did I make myself perfectly clear?”  


Tippet coughed slightly and nodded, “you have Miss Shouna. The Republic thanks you for your agreement to cooperate.”  


Rair stood and spat on the floor. “If you follow through I’ll have a list of supplies we’ll need ready by the time you show me to my sons.” She handed him a datapad from inside her jacket. “I’ll send the data to this, so don’t lose it. Send any reply to the address you receive from me.”  


The Jedi accepted the datapad and heaved himself off the floor. Rair made no move to help and the Jedi didn’t bother brushing himself off, his entire back was now a grease stain. “I’ll have the file soon then?”  


“It will be there within the hour.”  


“Very good. It’s been a pleasure, Miss Shouna.”  


“I doubt that. But you need me, so try to get used to it.”  


Tippet nodded and walked away. In his wake he left conversations of notably increased volume.  


Rair slumped at the bar counter and grabbed for the drink Meerit had left her. Good job, Rair, you sounded like you were in control. Then her cheeks flushed and she smiled as she realized what she’d just done. _This isn’t real. Wake up,_ di’kut. But the stink of the bar and the nausea in her own stomach told her that this was real. She had actually just negotiated to see her boys again. Well, some of them. But that was still a million times better than nothing. She looked at the drink in her hand, grinning wider than she would have thought possible for the last year. Ner ade, _my sons!_  


She pushed the still full glass away from herself and stood, legs still unstable but she could manage. “Thanks for everything, Meerit.” She paid him, left a very generous tip, and swore he choked up a bit when he figured out she wouldn’t be back. He was losing a very good customer.  


Outside the bar, lanes of speeder traffic passed by not two meters away. She turned around the corner of a building and walked to her own bike. She considered driving herself, but after denting a dumpster, taking a very noticeable stripe of paint from another vehicle, and then only barely managing to shift to reverse, she chose to set the autopilot. The bike merged flawlessly with traffic and went slower than she would have liked, but she was giddy enough she couldn’t really care. She used the bike’s holoscreen to pull up her files on the boys. She sent the correct tables and charts to Tippet, sure to include a list of their number designations since she doubted the Republic kept track of their names. How many of you will I get to see again? She knew realistically it wouldn’t be many, maybe half a dozen, but in her mind’s eye she saw that first day she had walked in to see 104 little boys lined up in perfect rows, waiting for her first order. Then again, she saw another 104 boys, just a little older as she took over for their last trainer. Finally, she saw all 208, grown men in just a few years, lined up in shiny new armor, just as they greeted her every morning.  


_Oh,_ ner ade _. How well did I do my job? Will you remember me? Will you remember what it means to be_ Mando’ade?


	2. Ba’slan Shev’la

Mornings were never pleasant.  


Rair groaned and sat up, noting that she had fallen off the bed sometime in the few hours of unconsciousness she allowed herself. Her shoulders ached, she had slept with her lekku folded under her, and her leg was asleep, consequences of stumbling into her apartment and falling on the bed without preparation last night. Her head hurt, too.  


Fierfek, _I’m going to have to sober up for them_  


She paused and thought through the pain. “ _Ner ade,_ ” she whispered. “My boys are coming home.” She smiled large enough to hurt her cheeks. She stood and stretched, trying to think through the preparations she’d need to make. Painkillers are a high priority.  


Before anything else, she checked a datapad for updates. She had sliced a few particular Republic databases so that she could know when she lost another commando. The casualty lists updated daily. Today’s list was mercifully shorter than normal, just a page and mostly of standard troopers. A couple commando designations appeared at the end of the list, but neither of them were hers. “ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,_ ” she whispered for the day’s lost. Not gone, merely marching away.  


For her boys, the twenty-two she had lost so far, she bowed her head and honored them.  


“ _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum._ ” And she began reciting their names. “Chic, Abbet, Itch, Marc, Fi, Sabel, Tock, Gan, Spark, Vis, “ as usual, she began choking up, unable to make it through even one day without the pain being fresh. She continued the list, the usual unashamed tears falling without her skipping a beat. She matched a face to each name, and a memory of raising each child rose in the split second it took to move from one man to the next. She finished with an unsteady voice, “Bug, Stark.”  


Rair took a deep breath and repeated the dedication. She allowed herself another minute of pain, refusing to ever become complacent in her duty to her sons. Then she shook her head and turned to the ‘fresher.

\---- 

An hour later Rair dictated a list of ordinance to a datapad as she went through her daily workout. “Ten RA-53-C rifles, as many EMPS as you can fit in a couple crates and the same for frag grenades.” Push-ups followed by handstands, “a dozen repair kits for their DC-17s and a half-dozen for the rifles.” Handstands flipped to become splits and leg stretches, “Four T3 grade flamethrowers, two basic medkits per commando and one complete for every two of ‘em.” Splits became a sweeping kick to rise, then on to combat practice on an old training dummy. ”Ten recon probes, a dozen dataspikes, and ten bead comms.” She stopped dictating to think a while, making sure she had covered everything. She had gotten food, water purifiers, armor and repair kits.  


The loud thwak of skin on imitation flesh made her head flare with pain, but she ignored the hangover, it was already better than when she had woken up. “End list. Prepare for delivery to address; DP6-488N.” The datapad pinged to let her know it was ready. “Hold delivery until command, _ade_ , is given.” The datapad pinged again, informing her of its compliance.  


Rair grunted and kicked the training dummy. Its artificial collarbone shattered and she was satisfied she hadn’t lost her touch overnight.  
She poked around the kitchen, noted that she really should have something on hand for meals, then gave up and decided to go out—again. She would avoid any bars, cantinas, or taverns though. They had profited enough from her patronage. The Twi’lek armed herself; a blaster on the right hip, sleek and showy, a bulky, comfortably heavy blaster hanging on the back of her pants, and her favorite negotiation tactic slid up her left sleeve, a knife she had liberated from a rude bodyguard of some self-important crime boss.  


The Coruscant air was never fresh, but she inhaled the fumes and stenches of a mid-level complex with comfort. She could have rented a home on the higher levels, where the air was filtered and circulated regularly, but the citizens up there were too unpredictable in their safe, legal lives. She would never quite understand the thought processes of people who struggled to run a mile, but would surround themselves with alcohol, people, and unknown security while wearing clothes that restricted movement and offered no protection, and call such a gathering a “party”. Anyone that chose to live that kind of life was either extremely confident in the political Game, or oblivious to it all. Aside from that, the filtered atmosphere on the upper levels burned her throat. Better to keep a low-profile anyway, _ret’lini,_ just in case.  


It was still early, she rarely slept past 0400 so it was about 0500 and the first commuters were starting to drift through the skylanes. Of course, in Galactic City that meant traffic was thin enough to catch the occasional glimpse of the other side of the chasm. Rair mounted her speeder, a slick little thing that could go faster than some fighters could in atmosphere. It was as deep blue as she was green and it was one of the few things she would loathe having to part with. She dipped under a freighter and wove through traffic until she got to a rarely-used alley system. Using routes that probably weren’t supposed to be used by vehicles, she arrived at a seedy tapcaf with incredible pastries.  


“Morning, public menace!” The girl behind the counter was one of the few people she didn’t mind having a friendly conversation with, but that’s likely because it was her cousin.  


“ _Su’cuy, ner vod!_ ” Rair waved at the Human. She may not have been related by blood, but that wasn’t actually a big matter in _Mando_ families. This girl was the daughter of her adoptive mother’s sister, so she was family.  


“You look like _osik,_ honey.” She may not be _Mando’ad_ , but she had picked up on important bits of the language, like curse words and threats. “Hangover?” She brought over a large cup of caf and a pastry covered in crystallized sugar. Rair recognized it as Chiita bread.  


“Not for much longer.” Rair tore into the bread, realizing she hadn’t actually eaten anything since yesterday morning. “Amii, I feel like I should remind you how much I love this food. I don't tell you nearly often enough.”  


The Human girl smiled, “No, you don't. But your affection is noted and appreciated.” And she walked off to attend to workers who just got off shift and others who were about to get on. They were all falling asleep over their caf.  


The Twi’lek watched her cousin for a while, marveling at how easily she made conversation with everyone. She didn’t look the least bit suspicious, even when greeting a new patron. Everyone who met her loved Amii, and Amii seemed to easily love everyone in return. She saw the worth in every person she met and it gave her an aura of constant wonder and childish excitement. It was infectious.  


Or perhaps Rair was just particularly susceptible right now. She tapped her foot on the floor, uncharacteristically fidgety. There was only one way for her to calm herself before she did something stupid with the mirthful energy building in her chest; she had to form an assault plan. She felt herself calming as she put herself in the mindset of a strategist. She was most comfortable thinking things through in this way, choosing based on circumstance, predicting action and reaction.  
_I need to start liquidating._ She picked at the crumbs of the Chiita bread. _I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I can’t give some_ chakaar _a chance to make out with whatever I leave behind._  


The apartment would be easy, just give notice to the landlord of her level and scrub the blaster marks off the ceiling. She could sell appliances, but she would rather donate them. They weren’t exactly top-of-the-line, but some poor _di’kut_ with kids and no job could make good use of a previously owned preservation unit.  


Her armor and kit would come with. Custom _beskar’gam_ is difficult to replace without drawing attention. And weapons were equally hard to get rid of in the quantity she had collected. All of those would be useful anyway. She highly doubted Tippet would be able to get her everything she requested, so she’d bring whatever she could to assist in the war effort.  


The hardest decision would be what to do with her speeder. She didn’t want to sell it some rich family who wanted to spoil their brat with a new toy to break, but it would draw attention if she sold it for any cheaper than what the upper class could afford. Even if she would have gotten it to someone who knew how to care for a precious commodity like a TH4-Y casing modified speeder. Mon Calamari made frame, Verpine engine, and the art of a high-price, high-quality specialty design group of Rodians. They called themselves, “Starboards” and started as a kind of club to rebel against rich parents. Now they designed the highest-quality speeder casings, and it was their trademark to make one of each design and sell only under the table.  


She’d hunted them down and designed it alongside them.  


Maybe I could keep it. She wasn’t stupid, it had been made to survive any terrain, take blaster shots from anything less than a Verpine, and still come out shiny. It was coated in stealth tech of several types, from electromagnetic frequency emitters that made it invisible to droids, to a programmable paint job she could use as camouflage by setting the controls on the holoscreen. _It could be useful for recon._ Haar’chak, _it would just be cumbersome on a stealthy planet entry and nearly pointless anywhere without flat ground for a distance._ Rair decided to see if Amii would look after it until she got back. Maybe she could bring it along some other time.  


The Twi’lek pulled out a datapad and laid it on the table. She had to decide who to call in favors with before she left. Some opportunities wouldn’t come again and leaving the planet would close doors if she wasn’t careful. Telling Tippet she hadn’t been a mercenary the past year and a half wasn’t entirely accurate. She hadn’t done much hunting offworld, but she had a reputation to rebuild, and there was a lot of work to be done in Galactic City for someone who didn’t give a _shab_ about following laws.  


\----  


Four cups of caf and two servings of Chiita bread later, Rair summoned Amii, clarified that she got the speeder back when she returned, and paid for her two-hour breakfast. She was a little worried that she hadn’t gotten a reply from Tippet, but she told herself that it was fine. He was probably just getting things put together.  


I should have gotten the name of the system from him. I don’t even know where we’re going. The more she thought about last night, it seemed like the less she could remember. She was sure there hadn’t been many details on the flimsi sheet Tippet had given her, things such as locations and dates were conspicuously absent. But the Jedi had convinced her to do it anyway. Maybe he had used some of the mystic power stuff Jedi had. Though Rair thought it more likely the alcohol had made the decision for her. But it’s done, and I’ve negotiated for my sons. I can suffer the consequences happily. I can always get the data I need through my own means.  


She made her way to one of the city’s domed gardens. They were places meant to convince the residents that they weren’t surrounded by durasteel and duracrete on all sides, but it really just made all who entered uncomfortably warm and damp. However, they had public holonet terminals, perfect for wanting to do an untraceable slice.  


It was a routine thing now. She tried different gardens every time, all over the planet. Today she boarded the TranLight for an hour-long ride. The trip itself was full of hushed conversations on her comlink and threatening negotiations about making sure her departure would be kept quiet. That, of course, meant that the whole planet would know she was vanishing again. That was exactly what she wanted though. It ensured her clients would fill her position quickly, and if she ever wanted to return, it would leave an impression to dispose of her replacement and resume her duties as if she never left.  


A mechanical voice buzzed at her through the comlink, “Does that mean your pretty little speeder will be on the market? Because I’ll pay three times what you can fetch at auction.”  


“Graan’ol, I would sooner destroy her myself then see your ugly _shebs_ scuffing the paint.” She laughed, and the conversation ended in time for the TranLight doors to open. This station was relatively deserted, and the few occupants it had looked more like they wanted to initiate shady business deals than commute.  


Rair shifted her jacket so her blasters peeked out from under the hem and strode to the edge of the walkway to hail a taxi.  


“ _Chuba!_ What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here?” A group of Nikto was approaching her from behind.  


Rair glared, “ _Usenye._ ” She was absolutely not in the mood for this kind of scum. “Don’t you have some Hutt to clean up after?” Miraculously, a taxi pulled up. She climbed in and demonstrated her thanks for their hospitality with a hand gesture.  


“Problems ma’am? Shall I summon law enforcement?” The driver droid pulled away from the platform and a holoscreen prompted her to input a destination.  


“Nothing to worry about. Though you showed up in time to save some of their lives I’m sure.” She input the garden and sat back for the few minute ride. _The scum are getting bolder,_ she thought. And more desperate. She allowed a silent chuckle, remembering that she’d been called, “pretty girl.” She hadn’t been young enough to be called, “girl” for two decades now, and a fine collection of battle scars ensured she was not pretty.  


The taxi dropped her off at the garden and she tossed a credit chip to the droid as a tip, “get yourself a new shoulder casing, yours is cracked.”  


This garden was especially unremarkable, basic trees and shrubs cut through with paths and with places cleared for benches and picnic areas. She meandered along a path for a few minutes, crossing from one side of the dome to the other and back again. Then, with the nonchalance of one who’s never done anything illegal in her life, Rair strode to a holonet terminal and inserted the ID datachip of a deep undercover CSF agent she’d met once. Well, ‘met’ may not have been the right word. She had been turning in a job for a Hutt when the _di’kut_ blew his own cover. The agent thought he could scare the minor crime boss into helping him by flashing a badge and all it got him was a shot through the chest. Even minor Hutts were less likely to be frightened than they were to be offended. She negotiated silence about his death and the rights to his possessions as a bonus for a job well done. There were advantages to being the quickest to draw your blaster when confronted with the law.  


So now she had backdoors to information she couldn’t slice without tripping alarms, and another month before Coruscant Security Force figured out Agent Odell was a lost cause. She hoped she had a month at least. It may be hard to explain why an agent hunting spice traders needed access to troop deployment data. Her snooping and code-tweaking would likely cut off Odell's access when the daily performance review flagged the activity.  


She resisted the urge to find her squads, forcing herself to focus on knowing where they would be going once they were reunited.  


What did Tippet say? They used to be in the sector but they pulled out. That gave her a starting point at least. She ran a search for unoccupied bases, either abandon or overrun. She didn’t entirely trust the Jedi’s story of just leaving it behind. The list was much longer than she expected. Several pages of backwater moons and worlds with no strategic value whatsoever greeted her search query. _Is the Republic military this incompetent? How the_ shab _is this war still happening if they’ve failed so many times? The Seps must be worse—if that’s even possible._ She narrowed the search to bases in sectors with no current Republic presence and the list shrunk dramatically. _Okay, better. Maybe a lot of them just upgraded._ She tried to recall other hints the Jedi had given. _Locals!_ He had mentioned that locals may have moved into the base, so that meant sentient life. She added that to her search filters and was left with five possible bases.  


“Lorta, Kothlis, Cerea, Zolan, Er’Kit.” She muttered the names, trying to eliminate possibilities with what she knew.  


Lorta was mostly ocean and islands. No resource for the Republic and the Lortans would be much more trouble than they were worth dealing with. Rair was impressed they managed to establish a base there in the first place, but the violent natives would have destroyed it by now. Kothlis was in Bothan space. The Bothans had been neutral the whole war, profiting from their data-gathering on both sides. _The Republic wouldn’t risk angering the Bothans by invading a colony world, they’re too afraid of the damage the Bothans could do._ But maybe they weren’t so scared since they had gone to the trouble of establishing a presence there at one point. Cerea, well, that was a fresh wound better left alone. She didn’t know much about Zolan, except that it was the homeworld of the Clawdites. _Shape changes, the Republic may want them._ Er’Kit was also a possibility, but it was in a sector the war was nowhere near. _Tippet said the war was moving that way, so unless its about to do a hundred-eighty degree turnabout, it’s not Er’Kit._  


_Zolan then_. The Twi’lek brought up the data on the base and began her research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot here that's rough and I've never been able to be happy with, but for the sake of keeping the story moving I've accepted it as is. Feedback welcome. Hope you enjoy.


	3. Ne shab’rud’ni

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence Warning

Rair gasped as she moved her legs. She hadn’t realized it had been several hours since she first accessed the terminal, and it felt as if her legs had turned to stone. Haar’chak, _but at least I got what I wanted._

The Twi’lek rubbed her thighs as the terminal ejected the ID datachip. After that long in databases entirely unrelated to Agent Odell’s clearance, it was definitely compromised, but she could still pawn it to a spice trader to keep CSF guessing. Her eyes burned and her neck was sore, but she had found everything she needed. _I’m ready when you are, Tippet._

She grinned and flexed her fingers as she exited the garden dome. She waited by the edge of the chasm, _It figures I can’t be lucky enough to get a taxi right away. This morning was unprecedented in its convenience_. But she didn’t mind the wait. Here, away from the political and commercial center of city-planet, even the lower-level air wasn’t so stale. If she looked up and squinted just right, Rair could almost pretend she saw stars in the early night sky.

Realistically, satellites, space stations, cargo ships, pleasure cruises, and multitudes of other durasteel hulks crowding perfectly good space made up the twinkling lights that could be seen from the surface. But it was nice to pretend. She sat on the edge, watching the occasional bypasser without any real interest.

A vehicle pulled up and the Twi’lek eyed it suspiciously. It wasn’t a taxi, so she could have ignored it, but something about the voice she heard emerging triggered a sense of caution.

“—and I swear, if I hear another jab about Hutts I’m gonna feed the joker to Togai.” A Nikto stumbled out of the speeder, a group of assorted species pouring out behind him.

 _Oh_ osik. She recognized the Nikto from the TransLight station earlier. Rair rose, not wanting to be halfway off the edge of the tower when the creature saw her, and tried to do something logical.

She took a few steps back, considering the outcomes of a confrontation or sliding around the dome of the garden until she could slip into an alley of a completely foreign part of the planet. _He’s obviously inebriated, he may not even recognize me._ And he truly was tripping and giggling like a student who just reached legal age. Of course, even if he didn’t recognize her, in a group as he was, he likely would get in a fight just for the fun of it.

But her options were taken as one of the Nikto’s lackeys spotted her.

“’Ey girlie! Lookin’ for trouble?” The group laughed and the Nikto turned to look.

Being spotted called for a swift change of plans, and Rair was good at improvising. She smiled and waved, “Looks like you have enough of that without my help.”

The Nikto took a step towards her and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, you’re that _karking wermo_ who insulted me at the Trans station!” He tried to snarl but it just made him sound imminently sick.

“ _Sweets patogga,_ you might be mistaken, I’m sure you have a lot of people insult you in a lot of places.” _Sweetie pie_ might have been a bit more condescending than she could afford, but the way he was stumbling and crossing his eyes made it difficult for her to take any threat he may pose seriously.

“I’ll warn you, my friends and I are quite _azalus_. You don’t want to pick a fight with us.” He glanced back at his posse for support. A couple stepped forward, others shook their heads. Clearly the latter were the more sober of the bunch.

“Ooh, dangerous, you say?” She flicked her tchin over her shoulder, getting the appendage out of the way as her right hand drifted closer to her holstered blaster. “I’m not picking a fight, _pateessa_ , just waiting for a lift.” She gestured to the empty skylane, “Coruscanti Taxi Service, never there when you need them.”

The Nikto was getting angry. “I’m not your friend.” He began marching across the half dozen-meter gap between them. “ _Rikkit nus parlatae, griitii_.” He forfeited Huttese for his own language. However, after so many dealings with Hutts, Rair was familiar with the languages of their servant species. He reached behind himself as if he were reaching for a concealed blaster.

“ _Birriti tuin coulis. Chiirim nikti._ ” She replied in Nin, making the angry Nikto even angrier. No sentient species appreciated having their ancestry insulted, and her words had done just that with a fair amount of expertise.

If she wasn’t concerned about the Nikto, his friends may be cause for concern. Of the four that followed the fool across the walkway, Rair pegged the Gammorean and one of the Humans as top priority when the firefight started. The Human was visibly armed and looking eager to fight. The Gammorean was clearly unarmed, clothed in just a ripping tortuously stretched jumpsuit, but they seemed to be the most stable on their feet. And their species was annoyingly hard to put holes in with anything less than a rifle.

The other Human, the Rodian, and the Nikto himself seemed to be struggling to walk in a straight line, but even one of them falling and tripping her could prove fatal--and embarrassing.

Rair shrugged and began pulling both blasters from their holsters. “I don’t want to fight you, but mainly because I’ll have to do paperwork if they catch me afterwards. You can give up now.” But she really was eager to fight. She wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about, a few insults shouldn’t lead to violence so quickly, but she didn’t really care. _This is stupid, I should be wary of confrontation. I could get hurt or caught._ That voice of reason was quickly overwhelmed by the elation that accompanies adrenaline. _You're getting old if you'll let a little risk stop you,_ she let herself grin slightly, _try to enjoy this._

The Nikto let out a yelp—she guessed it was meant to be a battle-cry, and the group of intoxicated assailants heaved forward. The Nikto drew a hold-out blaster and the Rodian, a vibroblade. The blaster shots went wide, but if he were to strafe he might be a danger. Rair crouched and took aim at the hollering Rodian with his vibroblade raised overhead. She aimed for and hit his shoulder with brokar, her heavy pistol, and the little green alien was knocked down. The vibroblade fell from his hands and clattered to the ground. Rair shot at it with hettir and it went spinning off the edge.

She had a brief moment of hoping no civilian was standing below the blade, then a blaster shot passed by her chest so closely she felt her skin tighten in response to the heat.

" _Shab!_ " She rolled to the side—and right into the Gammorean. The brute kicked at her. Though their legs were short, the Gammorean dealt a powerful blow. Rair was flipped over, her side felt like it was on fire. She grimaced and fired brokar at the feet of the Gammorean. The creature grunted but pursued her, kicking the blaster from her hand with the foot she had hit.

Rair could hear cheering behind her, but she concentrated her efforts on the large, green foot attempting to crush her skull. She fired hettir repeatedly, attempting to burn through the tough skin of the Gammorean’s foot. With her left hand, she reached into the top of her sleeve and pulled out the vibroknife. She switched it on and held it over her head with both hands, ceasing fire to brace against the heavy foot.

The brute squealed and fell forward clutching his foot. The knife was stuck up to the hilt. Rair scrambled up and searched for brokar, leaving the knife, unsure if she’d even want to retrieve it when this was over. She saw her blaster but being shot at distracted her from its retrieval.

She turned and fired at the Nikto with hettir. She hit him once in the stomach and once in the chest. He let out a high-pitched cough and collapsed. The Humans were standing behind him and took up firing in their dead leader’s stead. The one Rair had decided to be cautious of earlier was smiling and taking careful aim before each shot. Apparently alcohol’s effects on Humans could be negated by adrenaline, because her aim was much better than the Nikto’s had been. The other Human was firing faster than their blaster could recharge, resulting in low-heat and unfocused bolts.

Rair clenched her teeth and avoided a shot from the Human female by stepping into the line of fire of the Human who was shooting too quickly. The impact of the shot knocked her breath out, but it didn’t pierce her low-grade armored jacket. Rair snapped off three shots at the male Human and dropped to aim at the female. The Human was running, but not away from the danger. _Is the_ shabuir _crazy?_ Rair fired at the Human’s knees and the woman came crashing down a meter from the Twi’lek.

She sprung up and kicked the Human’s blaster from her hand. “Are we done here?” She asked with a smile, hettir nudging the Human’s temple.

The woman’s face was down, nose in the duracrete walkway. Her body began shaking, as if spasming. Rair looked over where the group of other miscreants had been gathered but they and the speeder they had come in were nowhere to be seen.

She returned her attention to the Human. She had turned her face to look at Rair. Her body still shook, but when coupled with the sound coming from her mouth, Rair could recognize laughter.

“Care to let me in on the joke?” The Twi’lek looked around to be sure no one else was going to attack. The other Human and the Nikto were dead, and the Rodian was muttering to itself and clutching his limp arm. The Gammorean was grunting softly, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say it were meditating while sitting on the ground, foot stuck out in front of it, still thoroughly impaled.  
Five targets. Five casualties. A clean operation. But then, why was the Human laughing?

Rair kicked the woman and gave up. The Human simply smiled and stared after her, laughing despite her mangled leg. Maybe she’s going into shock. Hysteria can accompany that. But somehow the Twi’lek felt there was something she had missed.

Disregarding her intuition, Rair yanked her knife from the foot of the stunned Gammorean, walked away from the carnage, collected brokar, and stood on the edge of the walkway. A taxi pulled up and she climbed in. “Your timing really is horrendous.”

The droid driver sighed, “I hear that quite often, miss. Can you please input a destination?”

She selected the TransLight terminal and sat back, waiting for the droid to take off.

“Oh my.”

She glanced over at him. The droid had spotted her assailants on the walkway. “If you say nothing to anyone I’ll tip you enough to get an upgrade.”

“To the terminal then, miss?”

“Please.” They took off and Rair closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to equalize her body’s reaction to the fight.  
When they arrived, she tipped the droid enough to bribe a senate guard.

\----

She woke to the beeping of her datapad.

The lighting of her room adjusted as it sensed her waking and she sat up to a dim glow from above illuminating the device on the bedside table. She didn’t know what time it truly was, but it felt as if she had collapsed on the bed mere seconds ago. _There’s no rest for the wicked, I suppose_. Her hand reached out and clasped the datapad, opening the message with a flick of her thumb.

Her eyes went wide and her breath was short as she read the message. “The _Jetii_ did it.” She whispered as she reread the message, then again. “Two days. Two days and I get to see my boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sneaking out to publish this chapter while I'm in the wrong state taking care of my grandmother. This also means no progress is being made, unfortunately, as I have very, VERY limited internet access and a lot of responsibilities as a caretaker right now. Family comes first. I'll be here at least a month, and I'll try to upload one more chapter at some point within that. That will use up my buffer, so expect a very slow publication rate after that...as if this wasn't bad enough. Thanks for your patience, and thanks to those who have read so far! I really appreciate you!
> 
> Language note: There's not enough documented Nin to form phrases, so I literally put down things that matched the phonetics. The Huttese and Mando'a I try to translate in-context...also most of it is profanity and I think you guys got that translated pretty well. If you want better/more direct translations, let me know.


	4. There is No Emotion

His robes whispered along the temple floor as he hurried to his third meeting this morning. The door to the conference room opened silently and he entered the same; not unnoticed, but without interrupting.

“So what you’re saying is that we actually don’t have a say in the matter?”

“Calm yourself, Mindin, anger is not the answer to this.” Master Plo Koon spoke through a holo image, speaking from his command ship light years away. “The Council has deferred to the Chancellor’s judgment for many missions, yes, but that is because his cabinet of advisors is more experienced in war than our own Masters. If you feel your troops are better served to be deployed elsewhere, you simply needs make an appointment to speak with the Council about the matter.”

Chira Mindin, an older Sullustan Knight took a deep breath and tried to make her point. “Master Koon, the Council is scattered. Even now you are not here to discuss matters, but off on a series of missions that keep you from your duties. When members are unable to holographically attend to Council matters, you send proxy Masters. Kina Ha has sat in on more meetings as a proxy than Fisto and Mundi have been there for, combined!” Her voice rose in pitch as she became more animated. “We understand that the Council’s confidence was shaken at Geonosis, but that was a year and a half ago. In the meantime, I’ve heard younglings devising sound battle plans that make more sense to me than what the Chancellor is having us do.” She took a deep breath and no one attempted to interject. “I don’t want to make an appointment with the Council only to have it cancelled or my suggestions be ignored, I want to be given the trust and authority we should have as Generals to be able to change the parameters of a mission if we can prove our troops can serve better elsewhere.”

There was a moment of silence, and he could feel the tension radiating from Mindin without the help of the Force. With it, he feared it might unbalance him. _She’s on the edge of true anger. Now she’s frustrated, but if Master Koon does not choose his words carefully I fear for her._

Finally, Master Koon sighed deeply and spoke. “I do not mean to be dishonest with you, I hope you will accept my apologies, for my concerns are the same as yours. But my duty as a Council member demands that some information be withheld.” The Kel Dor’s image looked over it’s shoulder, as if the Master were being spoken to. “I must go, but Mindin,” the Sullustan had not taken her eyes from Koon, “draft me a report of how you believe your troops could best serve, and we shall discuss their dispersal.” He bowed to the assembled Jedi, “If any of you have similar concerns, please also send me reports. May the Force be with you.” The image blinked and was gone.

Mindin turned and stalked out of the room, a huge presence in the Force despite her diminutive size.

He looked around at the assembled Jedi, trying to find one in particular.

“Tippet!”

He turned. A Mon Calamari waved to him across the room and then moved to get within speaking distance. “I thought I’d missed you. Did you get a chance to speak with Master Koon?”

The silver Mon Cal shook her head. “It was all assignments and explanations and complaints thereof. Of course,” she waved a hand at the dispersing crowd, “as Jedi we don’t complain, we raise concerns.” There were few sights more comical than a bipedal fish rolling it’s eyes.

“Mindin seemed very concerned then. I’d venture to guess she would call it complaining.” Tippet lowered his voice to dissuade listeners. Keeping secrets in a temple full of Force-users was easier than he had feared, likely because they were all trained from birth to be courteous to the point of reckless trust and not to be curious about things that don’t concern you.

“Yes, she’s very concerned about the outcome of the war if we keep spreading our forces so thin.” She looked out the doorway as if watching the Sullustan leave again. “You think she’d want in on this?”

“Undoubtedly.” Tippet thought it over. “But we should wait to see what progress she makes on her own with Master Koon. If she can soften him up without any connection to us, she’ll be safe from scrutiny when we approach him.”

“You still think he’s the one?” The Mon Cal pressed her lips together and inflated her cheeks, a sign of worry.

“Teeri, if he isn’t we’ll have to go one hundred percent under the radar, and you know as well as I that it’s impossible to be completely secretive here.” He glanced at the holoprojector, disappointed he had missed the chance to speak with Master Koon. The sooner they had clearance for their operations, the better.

Teeri let the air out of her cheeks with a slight pop. “I still think Zey would be good to talk to. He is in charge of special ops. Or Windu, since Zey answers to him.”

“They’re also too—“

"Cautious. Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to say, ‘closed-minded’, or ‘dedicated’, but yes, I suppose that works.” The Mon Cal closed her eyes. “This war is changing so much. Before it, being a Jedi was simple; meditate on the light side, train younglings to do the same, negotiate with terrorists every other week. Now, I’m not even sure what it all means.”

They had gone over this conversation in dozens of forms before. The Human put a reassuring hand on Teeri’s shoulder. “That’s what we’re trying to rediscover. I have the mission to Zolan cleared. Just working out a few hiccups and I’ll be sending them off in a week’s time.”

“A week?” She inflated her cheeks and popped again. “What’s the delay? I thought we had to get them out in the next few days.”

Tippet noticed the room was now empty except for them so he let himself relax a little. “The mercenary was in a bad way. She would only do it if we had particular commandos as her team, so it will take that much time to gather them and get everyone briefed and outfitted.”

“I told you so.” In true Jedi fashion, Teeri exuded no pride, merely a matter-of-fact coolness. “You’ve seen how attached we get to our troops just in the field. Those poor trainers who raised them from children must either be heartless or broken if they don’t grieve for their clones.”

“Yes, well, I think it’s safe to say she’s both grieving and broken. She was entirely drunk when I found her and the bartender indicated it was a common occurrence.” He recalled how easily she had bruised him, despite her inebriation. He had healed the broken jaw to avoid questions, but it still ached where her blaster had impacted. “However, if her reputation has any truth to it, she’ll be the best one for the job.”

The Force alerted them both to an approaching presence and they turned to face the doorway. A Human youngling approached and bowed before them. “Master Diol requested your presences at the earliest opportunity.”

“Thank you, young one. We shall make our way to his office.” Teeri smiled at the girl.

“Actually, Master Teeri, he’s in the archives. Pre-Republic histories section.”

“Then we shall seek him there.” Everyone bowed to one another, a practice that always resulted in more of a comical appearance then it was originally meant, and the youngling left.

Tippet dramatically gestured to the doorway. “Shall we go and bear witness to whatever new information our dear scholar has uncovered?”

They began walking, making their way through the doorway and down familiar halls. Teeri rolled her eyes again. “How many times do you imagine he’s read every file in that section? And the hundred-thousand years following it for that matter.”

“I don’t dare. Anything I can reasonably guess would insult the actual number.” Teeri chuckled. The remainder of the walk was silent. The halls of the Jedi Temple were so often quiet, the peace disturbed only by robes over the stone floor and the steps of many the species who called the great Temple home. It felt as if it would be a blasphemy to speak above a whisper or run through the corridors, so many centuries of peaceful dwelling in the Force had imbued the walls with that serenity.

Normally, Tippet found walks through these silent halls comforting. But lately, they seemed suffocating, and completely at odds with the happenings of the galaxy.

They arrived at the Archives and slipped through shelves filled with data on all the history available to the galaxy. In a corner on the upper floor, they found Jedi Master Uumbai Diol sitting on the floor. He was surrounded by datapads and stacks of archive datatablets. Even some actual, bound, printed-on-flimsi books were stacked next to the red alien. He looked up at their approach, his eyes wide with excitement. “Three guesses!” He demanded before they could greet him.

Teeri didn’t have to think about it, this was a tradition between them. “You come from a species that should be extinct.”

“Boring, we knew that. Next?” He looked to Tippet expectantly.

“My plan with the Clawdites is stupid and unrefined and you think we should scrap it?”

“Also boring, I’m working on solving that. Come on! Last guess.”

“You’re going to fall madly in love with me and it was foretold by some dusty tablet several millennia ago.” Teeri smiled sweetly at Diol.

“A lot less boring, I’ll have to research that one.” The Sith Pureblood rose to his knees and selected a datapad from a collapsed stack. “What I found is even better.”

Despite their teasing, Tippet and Teeri truly were interested in what their friend had discovered. Without his research, they never would have questioned the war and the Jedi way. “Don’t keep us waiting, then.”

Diol’s chin tentacles quivered with excitement. “I can confidently say that by time your team is finished on Zolan, we’ll have a destination for their next mission. Assuming, of course that they are successful.” He scrolled through a wall of text on the datapad until he reached the paragraph he wanted. He highlighted the text and handed the pad to Teeri. Tippet read over her shoulder.

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no fear, there is power.” He narrowed his eyes and looked to Diol. “What is this?”

The Sith laughed. “Brilliant, is what it is! This is a translation of the only portion of a carving recovered on a temple door on Korriban, one of the oldest they’ve ever found! The temple was really just a foundation and floor plan with a couple walls and statues still upright, but the mortar that held it together was dated Pre-Republic, thus it’s hiding in here.”

“Why is it so important? This sounds like a mutated Sith Code, and they used Korriban as a—well, a spawning ground.” Tippet knew there was something he was missing, but he had never been a good student of history. The deeper into this they got, the more he was regretting not paying attention as a youngling.

“Not before the Republic! In all other histories, Korriban was populated by Dark Jedi after the Hundred-Year Darkness, and that was after losing the war against the Jedi and first Republic.” Diol stood and reached for a datatablet on a higher shelf. “What this means, is that before Xim, Exar Kun, the Dark Jedi, or anything else, there was someone building a temple on Korriban with text that closely resembles both the Jedi and Sith codes as we know them.” He flicked through the data on his selected tablet and shoved it at Tippet. “See?”

The datatablet showed pictures of a brown and red planet with information listed on the side.

* Korriban (see also: Pesegam)  

* Horuset System  

* Esstran Sector  

* Moons: 7  

* Atmosphere: Inhospitable but capable of supporting life; nitrogen/oxygen  

* Native Sentients: Sith (extinct)  

* First Known Exploration: Approximately 27,700 years before current date  

* Discovered by: Infinite Empire

Tippet raised his eyebrows. “Which ‘Infinite Empire’ are we talking about?”

Teeri answered, “Nasty group of Force-eaters, primarily Rakata with slaves of varying species. They were crossing the galaxy and enslaving planets long before most civilizations had mastered interplanetary travel. However,” She directed her words as a question to Diol, “they’re barely mentioned in most histories because so few know of them. I didn’t even know there were dates associated with any data on them.”

“Well, that’s the advantage of using the old, original databases.” Diol almost sounded abashed. “When I come across information I can update the system without anyone noticing. I found a few artifacts here, a journal there, and was able to piece together what happened. It’s incredible, really, how much data we have on Korriban.” It was so easy to think of the distinguished Jedi Master as a delighted child when he started talking about his research. “I know more about the Sith homeplanet than I do Coruscant’s history!”

The Human shook his head. “So how does that help us?”

“The Infinite Empire was raging through the galaxy at the same time I can best guess our predecessors were in existence.” The Sith looked as if he expected Tippet to complete the thought. When he received only a blank stare in return, he sighed and continued. “So, if this fragment predates the Sith and Jedi codes it must belong to a group who has ties to one or both. Likely, the very group that spawned the sects of Force-users as we know them.”

That explanation, Tippet could understand. “So if we search the remains of this temple and the surrounding area we might find information about the source, and that might lead us to the Je’daii?”

“Precisely!” Diol looked proud, as if Tippet were a challenged student.

Teeri snickered and raised her hand, waving it around for emphasis.

“Yes, Miss Teeri?”

“Why do you need Tippet’s mercenary for this? If it’s an archeological pursuit, you should be able to do it on your own.”

“Therein lies the problem.” The Sith sighed and stroked his tentacle beard. “My own intelligence leads me to suspect Douku has taken an interest in Ziost, which is quite near Korriban in relative space and in historical importance. As a self-professed Lord of the Sith, it makes sense that he would want to establish a presence. He is likely trying to uncover artifacts and information to increase his power.” He nodded to the stack of bound books. “And if these are any indication, he may find just that. There’s no telling how much was destroyed in the Sith Empire’s countless wars, but if even a fraction of some of these artifacts survived and Douku gets a hold of one, we could all be in trouble. If any of the Old Lords still inhabit their graves, the good Count may be stupid enough to release one, and then we’d have to fight a war through the Force that no one has been prepared for since the last Sith war. We can’t risk Douku paying a visit when a Jedi is on-planet, it would blow the entire operation.”

“So you want to send a mercenary and a dozen commandos into that dark side battleground?”

“No, I want to send a mercenary and two dozen commandos in to gather information that could aide the Jedi by increasing their power and influence against the Separatists. At least, that’s how I’ll propose it.”

“Diol, how did you ever reach ‘Master’ status with such a conniving dark side streak in you?”

He shrugged. “I asked nicely. You should try it sometime.”

Now Tippet rolled his eyes.

“No really! Or maybe it was a combination of a food bribe and my legendary charm.”

Teeri punched him in the arm.

“Alright, enough of that then. Maybe I’ll share the tale sometime.” He winked to his friends and settled back down amongst his research. “In the meantime, all I just discovered will be useless if Tippet’s maniac plan on Zolan goes wrong, so you two should focus on making that happen and covering our tracks. I can only whimsy away my time here as long as the Council thinks I’m more useful here then in the field.”

“Well, Commander Yilkes and I move our troops tomorrow. Don’t know where to but when do we ever?” Teeri ruffled Diol’s black hair. “Just keep working on that medical research as well as this, and the Council won’t think twice about you.”

Tippet closed his eyes as pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I have to find a way to acquire all the kit and ordinance a drunk mercenary thinks she’ll need.”

“It’s not too late to go with my plan instead.”

The dark-skinned Human playfully shoved the Sith’s head. “I’ll take my chances.”

The Human and Mon Calamari left the Sith to his work.

Teeri waved a goodbye at the shuttle pad to the barracks and Tippet watched her jog to catch the flight. “We can do it.” He whispered, trying to convince himself. “We can make our own Order, one that makes sense and doesn’t answer to the Republic.” And for the first time since they began planning a year ago, Grone Tippet felt like he believed it was true.


	5. Mar'e

_I will not detour._ She clenched her teeth and fought against the churning of her stomach.

 _I do not need a drink._ The roughness of her throat and dryness of her eyes begged to differ.

Rair swallowed more water, well aware of how poor a substitute it was for the alcohol her body was demanding. “Chen?” She addressed the clone trooper who was driving her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Don’t ever take up drinking. If you want to get passed-out drunk I recommend a punch in the face as a substitute. Feels about the same, anyhow.”

She couldn’t see his face underneath the helmet, but she imagined him smiling. “I’ll take that under advisement, ma’am.”

“ _Shab_ yes, you will. That’s an order.”

This time, he did laugh.

Minutes later they landed in the sector of the city reserved for military use. Since the Republic hadn’t had a significant standing army in quite some time, most of the sector was newly built or refurbished from office buildings. Chen, or RT-973358 as he had introduced himself originally, waved goodbye as Rair entered the barracks complex.

She followed the directions given in Tippet’s message to a conference room on the seventh floor. The walk was a difficult one, in part because her hands were shaking and her knees felt weak from withdrawal. But what made her grind her teeth together and keep her eyes down was not her alcoholism, but seeing squads of commandos and herds of troopers eating, talking, laughing, and generally existing, when she had been so long away from the familiar sight on Kamino.

K’atini, _Rair. Suck it up and move on._ But it hurt knowing how the clones had been raised and trained, and knowing she had let them all down. _What did you expect,_ di’kut? _You literally asked for this._ She took deep breaths and didn’t stop to ask for directions. It got her lost a couple times, but eventually she found her way to the room the Jedi had indicated.

Inside, she noticed the pitcher of water and glasses on the table before the Jedi waiting for her. _“Mar’e.”_ She filled a glass and brought the pitcher with her to sit down across from Tippet.  
“You said that before, when you were threatening to shoot me. What does it mean?” He summoned a protocol droid to fetch another pitcher of water.

“Literally? ‘At last’." She took note of the human's expectant expression with a raised eyebrow. "It’s root is from _mar’eyce_ which means ‘discovery’.” He continued to look fascinated so she shrugged. “Colloquially? It usually means the equivalent of, ‘Oh thank the Force’, or whatever you Jedi worship.” She emptied the glass and poured another one for herself.

“Well, we don’t actually—“

Rair raised a hand to stop the oncoming information. “I didn’t come here for a sermon and you aren’t here for a grammar lesson in Mando’a, so let’s get on with it.”

Tippet nodded and drew his hands from the sleeves of his robe. They were darker than the rough, brown material and Rair watched them suspiciously as they flicked through data on a screen in the table.  
“You still don’t trust me.” The Jedi did not ask a question, but rather he made an observation.

“Of course not. And keep your mystic probing away from my head.”

“Sorry, It’s not exactly an ability I can just turn off. It’s like your natural skepticism or fighting instinct, I didn’t ask for it and I can’t get rid of it.”

The twi’lek grunted through a glass of water. Possibly in understanding, but more likely in annoyance.

The Human pressed a final button and the center of the table revealed to be a holoprojector. A landscape hovered a dozen centimeters above the table surface and rotated horizontally. “Meet your objective. The temperate forest-covered world of—“

“Zolan. One native species loyal to the Republic and the other to the Seps. The problem is that the Clawdites are fans of the Separatists and they’re shape-changers, so it wouldn’t be too out of line to worry that your enemies could enlist some spies from the Clawdite population.” She emptied the water pitcher into her glass. “You established the base with the blessings of the Zolanders before figuring out the land they gave you to build on was Clawdite territory and the ‘Separatist terror cell’ you set it up to combat was a Clawdite village. You barely avoided blowing a bunch of civilians into atmosphere and abandon the base and the planet, afraid of the reaction from both populations.” She scratched her chin. “How am I doing so far?”

The Jedi worked very hard not to look surprised, then knew he had failed by the smugness he felt emanating from the mercenary. “I think I need to alert someone, somewhere, that there’s an information leak.”  
“Would you believe me if I said I’m just a big fan of the evening news?”

Tippet shook his head.

“Worth a shot. Anyway, the Zolanders haven’t withdrawn support officially, but they were miffed you didn’t help out in their civil war. But, they couldn’t say anything officially because that would mean admitting they were total _sleemos_ and probably losing some political power. The Clawdites don’t seem to know what happened but it’s guaranteed they do and just haven’t said anything about it. No one knows why.”

Tippet clapped slowly. “Now that you’ve briefed yourself, shall I escort you to your transport so you can take the planet, win the love of both sides, and claim a victory in the name of the Republic with the plan you obviously already have?”

“I told you to stay out of my head, _shabuir,_ but no, not yet. I’m still not sure exactly what you want done there. Without much military force to speak of, and no corner on the trade market, the Zolanders aren’t that important in the war. Which means, it’s the Clawdites you’re after. I need to know, are you trying to use them, or just deny the resource to the Seps?”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t assume and send yourself on your way.” The Jedi stood. “Thus far, the army has avoided Zolan because of the difficulties you detailed.” He waved his hands over the holoprojector and the landscape zoomed in to show an area that included markers for a base, a small village, and a series of caves in the surrounding hillsides. “But if we can make use of the Clawdites by winning some of them over, we may have a hold of assets the Separatists don’t seem to be using. However,” he indicated the village and the image zoomed in, “the only way to truly make the Clawdites loyal would be to wipe out or humiliate the Zolanders, which we can’t do.”

Rair didn’t see why not, but she decided to phrase the objection as a tasteful question. “What do the Zolanders have that you need? The Clawdites seem infinitely more useful.”

“Science.” He said the word as if it were a precious gem. “The Zolanders are incredible geneticists and biological researchers. They just aren’t as well known because they confine their experiments to their own planet due to religious beliefs.” He nodded to the spinning village. “The Clawdites are actually a result of experiments centuries ago by the Zolanders. But now they’re considered an abomination and usually confined to ghettos in Zolan cities. This village is one of the few gatherings of Clawdites who managed to escape the Zolander’s control.”

“Wait, so am I taking gifts to and kissing the boots of the Zolanders or the Clawdites?” The twi’lek was actually interested in the conversation now, even if only to learn how much she could deviate from Tippet’s plan without getting in too much trouble. She stood as well and began manipulating the holomap to see the surrounding terrain.

“Both.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“You’re going to placate both of them.”

“The _shab_ I am.”

“Hold on, there is a plan for this.” He held up his hands, imploring her to stay calm.

Rair shook her head but listened, turning her eyes to follow the changes Tippet initiated in the holoprojection.

“The Clawdites want independence, and either a voice in the current government or one of their own. The Zolanders want the Clawdites to never have existed. There’s no way we can please one party fully, much less both. However,” he pulled up a list of names and a cargo ship’s manifest, “If we get a small group of each on our side, we may have a chance of establishing a peaceful presence in the sector.”

The Jedi selected three items from the manifest and pulled them out to view individually. “These items were a code from a Zolander contact with sympathies for the Clawdites. The crate of blasters are from Corellia, which means--”

Rair cut him off, slightly baffled by the lack of sense this man had in regards to command. “I really don’t care what your code is, and I especially don’t care right now about how long you rehearsed this speech. Please, just get to the _shabla_ point.”

The human blushed, losing any grasp he has thus far maintained on an authoritative aura, “right. Essentially, your team will have three main objectives. You have to smuggle a group of Clawdites out of the ghettos without alerting Zolander officials, track down, capture, and return a cell of Clawdite criminals to Zolander custody, and monitor any Seperatist activity, in case our intelligence missed any activity among the Clawdites that we should be worried about.” He pulled a list of designations into view.

Rair held her smart commentary on the feigned simplicity of the objectives. “Are those--”

“You team. You have been granted status as a Lieutenant in the Grand Army of the Republic and these are the commandos the Republic offers for the purpose of completing all operations given to you.” He shoved the image closer to Rair so she could see. “I would read you their names and ranks but I’m under the impression you don’t need me to.”

She wanted to look at the list, to know who she was about to see, but she resisted. “I’ll know them when I see them, Jedi. A _buir_ always knows her _ade_.” She collapsed the image and the holoprojection winked off. “Now, I have a ridiculous mission to complete, likely a small time frame to do it in, and a team to work with that could be the boys I love, or could be complete strangers because of your blasted war. Let’s get on it, show me my boys.”

\----

Tippet chatted as he led her through the barracks out to one of the many parade grounds. He was spewing some nonsense about not being able to meet her ordinance requests exactly, but making some substitutes and sacrifices. She had expected as much, but she wasn’t particularly in the mood to insult the Republic’s resources, and therefore ignored him as much as she could So long as the basic kit was provided for the mission and some of her additions were provided they could make do. The less-than-detailed briefing Tippet had generously dragged out still rolled through her head, but most of her thoughts were on her boys, and trying not to think about them.

 _They won’t be the same. War changes people, you know that_. So she tried to banish memories of reciting tales of mandalorian heroes to little boys and grown ones alike, replacing them with images of live-fire training runs and losing sons to ‘realistic’ scenarios. It made her feel no less nervous, but it reduced her blind excitement.

Tall, dark, and mystic seemed to realize that his companion was not paying attention, so he cleared his throat. Rair gave him a courtesy tilt of the head to indicate she was listening. “Its just around the next left and through the doors. They should be out there already, and all we’ve told them is that their new commanding officer is going to meet them today.” He chuckled, “from what I could feel, none of them were too excited about the event.”

“They wouldn’t be.” She didn’t smile, but she was amused. “Despite Kamino’s most twisted efforts, the boys always hated taking orders from strangers.” She thought a moment, "that's almost definitely my fault, if I'm honest."

“I’ll let you go ahead then. There won’t be anyone else there, just you and them. I’ll come when you’re ready.”

Rair was surprised; it was as if the Jedi actually cared about giving her a proper reunion. “What’s the signal?”

“No signal, I’ll know.” He waved his hands about to indicate his powers.

The twi’lek couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed. She nodded, in thanks and farewell, and proceeded as she had been instructed. She stopped before the door, steadying herself, taking deep breaths. _Let’s see what they remember._

Her entire posture changed in the single step it took her to go through the door. Her shoulders evened, back stiffened, and eyes narrowed. Her steps became precisely timed and purposely loud. She turned from half-sober mercenary to an army ideal in less than a second.

Her march led her to the front of rows of Republic Commandos, with painted, dented, and burned armor, but every bit as disciplined as she. Rair did not turn her head, move her eyes, or otherwise allow herself to look at the men standing at attention. She got to the center of the front row and halted, turning abruptly on her heel to face the assembled soldiers. "Buckets off." They moved as one to remove their helmets.  
“Word is, there’s this top-secret, highly influential, no-profile mission I’ve been tasked with completing, and you lot are what the Republic’s given me to do it.” She made a show of looking critically at their armor. “I would ask what I’d done to deserve such punishment, but answering that question would take too long, so I’ll just ask you this just once;” she glared at one commando in particular, “why have you not hugged me yet, Trekk?”

She stood, nose to nose despite the height difference with the commando, her presence seeming to lower him to meet her. Then she heard a faint, “oh.”

The whole group of soldiers seemed to converge on her at once. She was surrounded by crushing hugs and cries of greeting. “Where ya’been, _buir?_ ” “Did you miss my pretty face?” “No one would miss your face!” _“Su’cuy gar!”_ So you’re still alive.

She hugged and greeted and hair-ruffled each and every one of them, tears spilling over as she beamed at them and called each by name. There were eighteen of them, eighteen of her boys come back to her.  
When she began struggling to breathe from all the hugs, Rair shoved her way out of the mass of armored bodies. Joking protests arose, but they stepped aside, not wanting to crush their small mother.

“How’d you find us?” She couldn’t see who spoke, they were all taller than her and the voice came from behind the first row.

The twi’lek laughed, “I could tell you…”

“But then you’d have to kill us?” Vira, a squad medic with his hair pulled back into a tail, laughed at the rhetoric.

“Of course! Or maybe I’d just force you all to take showers, did you all just arrive?”

There was a wave of bobbing heads and a chorus of, “ _Elek alor_.” Yes, ma’am.

She mimed waving a smell away from her nose. “When we’re through here, you’re all under strict orders to take the ‘freshers by storm and not to leave until you’ve scrubbed so well, you smell like Kamino again.”  
A laugh rose from the men. She made a gesture and they all fell back into rank, separating by squad. She scanned that crowd and felt a rising discomfort, a feeling that was infecting her joy with dread. She kept smiling, but her heart dropped when she realized what was wrong. Boys were missing. Squads were a mixture of her soldiers who weren’t supposed to be together. She knew what it meant, but admitting to herself that so many of her boys had been reassigned to each other when their brothers died was a reality she had been able to avoid before this moment. She saw only two squads that were complete, with the same brothers together that had been with one another from the beginning.

She noticed the six individuals who were unfamiliar, clones who had been added to the squads from other trainers. Shaking off the grief of the previous moment, she approached each of the mixed squads in turn, her boys struggling not to smile. “Maren, care to introduce me to the recruits?”

Maren, squad commander and a man with a fondness for red paint, nodded sharply. “Ma’am, these are RC-22873 and RC-6977, called Dis and Ghett, respectively.” The soldiers saluted.

Dis seemed thin, especially for a man who supposedly looked like everyone else in the army, and he appeared to be suspicious of his new CO as she approached. Ghett looked dazed, as if he were utterly confused about what was happening, but he tried to appear professional.

“When did you join up with my boys?” Rair kept a straight face, maintaining an air of discipline at odds with the laughing woman in a mob of huge soldiers she had been just minutes earlier, and far from the mess of negative emotions that swirled in her heart.

“Two standard weeks ago, ma’am.” Dis was definitely stiff.

“Right after the battle of Geonosis, ma’am.” Ghett’s voice was quieter than she had come to expect from the clones.

She nodded. “I expect perfection, can you promise me that?”

They both replied, “yes, ma’am.” Dis relaxed slightly, as if he were more comfortable with a goal in mind.

Rair patted Maren and Rigg, what was left of the original squad, on the shoulders as she walked by. “Stick around after the briefing.” They nodded.

The Twi’lek moved through the grid of bodies to the next mixed squad. This one had just one of her boys, showing Tippet had followed through on that particular command. “Aber, good to see you.”

The bald clone grinned, not even trying to appear the perfect soldier. “Buir, these are Frennan, Venn, and Pattrik. Good men, and _mando_ men--for the most part.”

Rair blinked. “Aber? My Aber?” She tried to conceal her genuine shock with a joking tone.

“Ma’am?” Aber’s voice was concerned, more the timid people-pleaser she had been expecting.

She patted his cheek, making him blush with embarrassment. “You’ve grown, that’s all. You aren’t the quiet one like I remembered.” She turned from him to greet the new faces. “Who’s who?”  
“Kavenn, leader of this ragtag bunch. Call me Vann, everyone else does.”

“Frennan, squad medic.”

“Pattrik, sorely abused lackey.”

The Twi’lek nodded at each. “Well, I see where the bad influences that Aber’s absorbing come from. You lot are a tad mouthy.” She raised her hand to silence the apology Frennan began. “So it looks like he joined you, right?”

Vann put a hand on Aber’s shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. He was reassigned to us after Geonosis.”

“That shabla battle--nevermind, there will be time to complain later. I need to steal Aber after the briefing, so don’t panic when he disappears.”

A chorus of, “yes, ma’am,” followed her as she approached the last mixed squad.

Just one of this squad was absent. “Alor, Ryys, Sten, how are you?”

“Doing well, _buir._ Better, now that we know you’re alive.” Alor answered, always serious.

“Of course, we never really doubted it.” Sten elbowed Alor in the chestplate. “I told you so.”

Rair smiled and nodded to the unfamiliar clone. “Name, soldier?”

He shifted uncomfortably and looked to his squadmates.

Ryys chocked and jumped in, “ah, right. _Buir_ , this is RC-7222, but we call him Singer.” Singer nodded. “He joined us three months ago with no background from command. We just know he hasn’t talked since his original squad was lost. I’m not even sure he remembers how.”

The twi’lek met Singer’s eyes with her own. “Take this personally or no, I respect your presence here and I’m sure you’re more than a capable soldier, but if I take you into a battleground and your not talking endangers anyone else, that’s on my head. So I want you to make the call before I have to; if you cannot complete a mission with maximum efficiency, let me know so I can send someone else.” He nodded and looked to Alor to translate his hand movements.

Rair put a hand on his arm to get his attention. “No, you sign to me. If you and I can’t communicate, I will leave the whole squad here.”

In a bastardized form of the sign language Rair had taught her boys, Singer conveyed his understanding and promised to be fully transparent about his abilities with her.

“Good man.” She addressed the whole squad next. “I need you three to stay after the briefing. Singer, you’re to follow that ‘fresher order.” Nods affirmed their understanding and Rair resumed her position at the front of the parade grounds.

The clones were still disciplined, but there was a restless air to them. She could see fidgeting and shifting among the ranks. Any other time, she might have reprimanded them, but today she could be persuaded to be lenient. “We obviously have a lot of catching up to do, I expect you to return the favor for all those nights of storytelling you put me up to.”

Nyni, a commando in Trekk’s squad laughed the loudest. “A’buir, we like your stories!”

“You’ve heard them all, _di’kut,_ time to share yours.”

The sound of an opening door ended the banter. The twi’lek did not turn around to see Tippet, but rolled her eyes dramatically, earning a wave of smiles from her boys.

“Miss Shouna, is everything in order?” He clasped his hands behind his back and stood next to Rair.

“They’re cowardly, stupid, and smell like akk dogs. Everything is in perfect order.” She kept her face straight, impressed that the Jedi did the same.

“Good, then we shall proceed to the briefing." Tippet turned and marched back inside, looking extremely foolish.

_He’s never commanded troops before, I doubt he’s even been around them very long._ Rair watched him strut away, trying not to snicker at his straight arms and lopsided shoulders. “You heard him, boys, march on!”

The commandos turned as one and marched into the compound, movements smooth and steps perfectly in sync. She followed them, relaxed, arms swinging. _My boys are back._

**Author's Note:**

> So first, my apologies, I'm totally new to this site and I know nothing about the community or what people like. I'm kind of hoping that works in my favor? At least I'm not tailoring this to anyone's expectations but my own. That being said, I started this work a couple years ago. I'm tired of sitting on it and going back and beating myself up over wording and grammar every time. I'm finally committing to releasing it to roam free. My writing has improved in the past few years, but I have several more chapters of this to release before I get to anything new. I will update even that which is already written fairly slow, because I don't have the confidence to release quickly. Sorry.
> 
> Otherwise, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy. <3


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